


And Counting

by writergirl8



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: Drabble, F/M, prompted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 19:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1196331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writergirl8/pseuds/writergirl8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been 365 days after Darcy's death, and Lizzie's still waiting for it to stop hurting like hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Counting

Charlotte had told her that the emptiness would never stop. A part of Lizzie hadn’t believed her. A part of Lizzie had assumedthat, someday, she would completely stop feeling. She would turn into a monster, somebody totally new and different. Somebody that didn’t care anymore.

This is not the case.

Her hands are shaking as she tends to the flowers in front of the grave, wrinkled and old and pale. She doesn’t go outside much anymore. Mostly, she stays inside and goes into the library that still smells like him even after a year and picks up the books that line the shelves. She sits on the couch that they had picked out together when they were 36 and reads the novels, watching carefully for the notes scrawled in tiny cursive writing. He never stopped taking notes.

Sometimes she can tell how old he was when he read the novel because of the way he views the text. She’ll open up a book and he’ll state how a quote connects to an opinion and she’ll think Oh, this is before Ella was born or this is right after his parents died or this is definitely after my miscarriage or this is before he ever set eyes on me or this is during the time when James wouldn’t stop rebelling. His handwriting had gotten better after his parents had died, and the stories that he had scrawled his thoughts across back then were accented by writing that was less cursive and more spidery.

If Lizzie closes her eyes in that room and breathes in his scent and traces her finger over the bumps made by his pen, it’s almost like he’s still there.

She wants to crouch down and lean her silvery head against the cool stone of her husband’s grave, but she can’t bring her aching bones to do it. Instead, she places a rock on top of it and rests her hand there.

“Hello, my love,” she whispers into the light of the day. She imagines the letters of her words drifting from her lips and floating up towards the sky. Towards William. “It’s been a year, today. A year since you left.”

Unsurprisingly, she can feel herself starting to fall apart all over again. As if it didn’t hurt enough already. As if she hadn’t just begun to pick up the pieces.

“I miss you so much,” she admits, breathing in sharply at the stabbing truth behind the words. “I miss the way you used to make my coffee in the morning, and the sound of your favorite slippers on the kitchen floor. I miss the commentary that you used to make when we watched movies and the way you used to talk to the grandkids. Mostly, I miss the weight on your side of the bed, and the warmth that you supplied when we were sleeping, and the way you always smelled so familiar. Like… husband. You smelled like husband. I miss that so much.”

She closes her eyes so that she doesn’t have to look down at her shaking hands, wondering why she hadn’t taken up her sisters’ offers to be with her today. Lizzie had wanted to honor him by herself, but for some reason, she had been expecting him to catch her. To protect her. And he simply wasn’t able to do that anymore.

“Mom?”

She turns around to see a brunet girl and a redheaded boy heading towards her, their brows furrowed with concern.

“Ella. James. Hello!”

Her voice sounds too wobbly to be normal. Seeing the tears streaming down her mother’s cheeks, Ella lurches forward to wrap her arms around Lizzie.

“Mom,” she says, leaning her head against her mother’s shoulder. James approaches them, wrapping his arms around the two of them from the side. He doesn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry,” Lizzie says shakily. “I was trying to… I was saying hello… I didn’t think…”

“It’s okay,” Ella murmurs. “We’re here to be with you. We’re gonna take care of you today. We can go out to lunch and we can talk about dad and tell stories all afternoon. Or we don’t have to talk about him at all; I can tell you about Ruby’s dance recital and James can tell you about how Colin is probably going to become a concert pianist.”

Yes. Of course she could always count on William to protect her. He had given her these children. He had given her this life. And wherever he is, he is making sure that they are making sure that Lizzie is okay today.

That is how he continues to love her.


End file.
